HALLOWEEN: CRIMINAL MINDS STYLE
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: A Halloween tale, featuring werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and ghouls--and our favorite BAU of course. An entirely NOT serious, FUN fic, HP of course!
1. Chapter 1

BUMP IN THE NIGHT: A FOTOBRIDGET HALLOWEEN SAGA

(_Ok, I am suffering from a wee bit of writer's block—which, for me, is EXTREMELY painful. So I have decided to attempt to play around in the world of fanfiction—imagine that! Because it is the Halloween season, I decided to add a bit of the paranormal to the mix. After all, why write straight horror when everything the BAU does can fall into that category? Still, I am a romance novelist, so don't be surprised if a few ships creep in, somewhere along the line. (Probably Hotch/Prentiss) Enjoy. And please, don't take this too seriously. And it's probably way out of character down the road, but it's just for fun!--and I do intend to finish Accidents Happen, but that is where my biggest block comes in, along with HOPE. And Hotch's Find has completely ran away from me. BOOGEYMEN seems to be sizzling, though. Anyway, please enjoy, and I am widely open to any suggestions…)_

(In honor of the Halloween Season when things really do go bump in the night!)

David Rossi did not believe in ghosts. Monsters—yes, the senior profiler definitely believed in monsters, but not ghosts. So when JJ ran into his hotel room—his was the only door still unlocked, apparently—claiming she'd seen _something _in the closet, he just figured that the media liaison had seen a passing mouse. The bed and breakfast they found themselves in wasn't of the highest quality. It wasn't even of the middle quality, for that matter.

Still, JJ was normally a calmer sort, so he hurriedly went next door to check it out.

Nothing was there. And if the door slammed shut behind them, it was probably just an odd Indiana wind. Nothing to be concerned about. JJ apologized for bothering him, looking prettily embarrassed. He laughed, told her any time, and went back to his own room. It was the last he heard from the blonde for the rest of the night.

It was the last _anyone _heard from her.

Emily knocked on JJ's door at a quarter past four that morning. She'd heard screams and the profiler knew her friend was having nightmares. Pregnancy hormones often resulted in nightmares and she knew that combined with the horror that was the BAU, poor JJ had been suffering every night. So there Emily stood outside JJ's door, shivering in her thin pajama shorts and tiny black tank top. Her feet were cuddled in thick warm socks—a weakness of hers that only JJ and Garcia were aware of—but the cotton didn't keep out the floor's horrific chill. She waited impatiently for the blonde to open her door.

JJ didn't. And Emily finally gave up, figuring JJ had fallen back to sleep. No big deal—they all had nightmares. She turned to return to her room when her heart froze. Her mouth opened to scream but she didn't get the chance as a large hand rose to cover her mouth, to pull her tightly to a broad chest.

But Emily was no victim, and she fought. She finally managed to pull away, to get in a good set of kicks. But the hand still covered her mouth, then a second rose to fist in her hair, and she was pulled ruthlessly forward.

Her eyes remained wide open, though in the unlit hallway she saw very little—only what the moonlight trickling behind the blinds would illuminate. His eyes were the darkest of dark, his hair just as black. His skin was eerily pale, his lips dark and slightly full. Slightly alluring. Then they were covering hers, ruthless and fierce. Her lower lip split from the pressure of the man's teeth as they ran over the plump flesh. She tasted the coppery tang and knew it to be her own blood.

It energized her, and adrenaline flooded her body, making her struggles a bit more effective. But even though she'd practiced sparring with Derek on numerous occasions, this man, this _creature _was relentless. And she knew he was much more of a creature than a man. Something about him wasn't human. Of that she was achingly certain. She didn't stand a chance. He pulled her through the shadows, deep into the storage closet at the end of the hall, as the door to one of her colleagues's rooms opened.

Emily struggled. Tried to make a noise, but he somehow held her body in a more than physical grip, making her weak and basically useless to herself. She could not breathe, his hand was tight over her nose, her lips. He relaxed his grip just enough so that she could draw in air, as if he had read her mind, and she was absurdly grateful for that, at least. At least she wouldn't go by asphyxiation.

The lips he ran over her neck were surprisingly gentle. He _tasted _her with his tongue and she shivered, chalking the reaction up to a physiological response to stimuli. He whispered words to her, in a language _she—_with her genius in languages—didn't understand, though it reeked of old Latin. Emily whimpered, hating that her body felt like lead, like he had done something to subdue her. Somehow. And she hated herself, too, hated that she was meekly becoming a victim, _not _fighting. She'd always promised herself that she'd fight. Always.

His teeth sank deep. And he fed off of her.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: SPENCER'S SUCCUBUS

'_Succubus'—in medieval times, a female demon who sought sexual relations with a male human, often in dreams._

Spencer Reid could have sworn he heard something outside his door. He couldn't sleep—he rarely slept more than a few hours at a time—so he decided to check it out. To see if any of his teammates were still awake. He especially wanted to make sure Emily was alright. This case had been extremely hard for his favorite female profiler, and this was only their first night in the small southern Indiana town.

And Hotch wasn't making it any easier for Emily. Reid wondered why the supervisor seemed to be short with Emily, as far as Reid knew Emily hadn't done anything she shouldn't have. But that didn't always matter with Hotch. Reid might have been somewhat awkward when it came to social situations, but as a behavioral analyst he hadn't missed the way Hotch and Emily had seemed to rub each other the wrong way almost from her first day on the job. But that was almost exactly two years ago, and Hotch had taken what Reid considered to be several huge steps backward in his interactions with Emily. It wasn't fair to Emily, not at all.

Reid was actually thinking of confronting his mentor about it. This last twelve hours had been literal hell for the team, especially Emily, and it had nothing to do with the case. And everything to do with Hotch.

He'd been relentless, pointing out all the flaws in Emily's logic, snapping at her when she got too close to him. When she'd tried to help him understand what the local LEO was saying. Hotch's hearing still wasn't quite up to par. He'd almost shoved her away. She'd looked…hurt. Vulnerable.

Reid wasn't used to seeing her that way, and it made him inexplicably angry. He didn't care what sort of problems Hotch was going through, he shouldn't take them out on Emily that way. Reid had already been down that road. He'd taken his issues out on Emily, too. He'd hate to see her become the unofficial whipping girl of the BAU.

After a while, Emily had reverted back to her early BAU actions. When she'd first arrived, she'd stuck pretty close to Morgan. She'd done so this afternoon, too. Reid couldn't blame her. He'd seen the looks Morgan shot at Hotch. It had been a very tense day for all of them. Reid hadn't been surprised when Emily had ate her dinner more quickly than she normally did and hurried to the B&B a few blocks down the street long before Hotch had finished his rare steak. She'd claimed she was tired and needed to sleep. No one had contradicted her. Hotch had barely even looked up at her.

They'd arrived in Indiana late, and had settled into the hotel around five a.m. with instructions from Hotch to take a brief nap and meet in the B&B's small lobby by eight a.m.. They'd all followed his directives, like they always did. Emily had been one of the first up the stairs, taking the room directly across from the one Reid had found himself in. Hotch's room was on one side of Emily's, JJ's on the other. Penelope's room was between his and Morgan's. Rossi was between JJ and the stairs.

Reid thought nothing of it, they always tried to make sure the girls were as surrounded in the hotel as possible, though they'd never said anything directly about it. It was just safer for the girls. Reid knew all the statistics involving female travelers as victims, and knew the rest of the male members of the team did too. Emily and JJ were _not _going to be victims. Not on their watch.

Reid heard a second sound, and opened his door to investigate, thinking briefly he should probably grab his gun. Still, if it was one of his teammates, he didn't want to scare them. Or have them think he was scared of ghosts or something. Morgan would never let him hear the end of it.

Nobody was there. But he did see something lying in the midst of the hallway between his door and Emily's. He bent down and retrieved it, fingers tightening around the cotton. It was still warm, so the sock hadn't been lying there very long.

Reid shrugged, figuring that one of the women must have been wondering the hall to the others' rooms. He'd return it in the morning. He returned to his own room, and closed the door tightly against any drafts. Reid hated old houses, hated old B&B's more, they were cold, drafty, musty, and if he admitted it secretly to himself—slightly macabre. He wanted to finish up this case and get out of there as fast as possible.

He lay back down, shutting his eyes and willing his body to sleep. It wasn't long before his lanky frame obeyed.

He didn't see the ethereal hand as it reached out to stroke the hair from his brow, didn't see the mist as the female demon moved to cover his body with her incorporeal own.

No, he didn't feel a thing as his body began to dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Penelope Garcia had a few set rituals that she did every night before sleeping, no matter _where _she was sleeping. Penelope prayed, nightly, to the highest power, to keep her family safe—Morgan and Emily, JJ and Reid, even Hotch and Rossi. Tonight she prayed to God that He remove whatever it was shoved up Hotch's rear and have the supervisor apologize to Emily first thing in the morning.

Penelope had never been so angry at her supervisor in all the time she'd known him. Emily so did not need work strife right now. Not after everything the girl had been through lately. Penelope might not be a profiler but she was well aware that Emily's relationship with that guy she'd met nearly six months ago when out jogging had flopped only two days before they'd left Quantico for this case. And she also knew Emily was probably blaming herself. Emily had a somewhat exaggerated sense of responsibility where things in her life were concerned, and Penelope knew her friend was probably beating herself up over the failed relationship.

And then the female profiler seems to be Hotch's favorite target; all of a sudden, unexpectedly, Emily was persona non grata with the boss man.

Penelope couldn't help but wonder why. Everything had been fine between them on the jet. Hotch had even walked beside Emily through the airport—they'd landed at Louisville, using a commercial landing strip.

But the instant she'd stepped into the lobby to meet the rest of the team after their initial nap, Hotch had been all over her. Everything she'd done had set him off. Even _Rossi _had been angered at Hotch—something Penelope never thought she'd ever see.

But she had.

Penelope sat down by her hotel bed, ruthlessly pushing thoughts of how dirty the floor might actually be out of her head, and began reciting the prayers that helped calm her every evening.

She didn't hear the scratching at her second story window, and if she did, she would have just chalked them up to branches against the glass.

It never even occurred to her that they could be ragged fingernails searching for entrance, and being held off by an unseen and powerful benevolent force evoked by the blonde woman's prayers.

EMILYTHEQUEENEMILYTHEQUEENEMILYTHEQUEEN

Emily awoke tucked neatly into her bed, residuals of her nightmare still running through her mind. Her body felt lethargic, and she knew she was coming down with the flu or something—she always had horrific nightmares when she was sick. Of course, she had horrific nightmares when she _wasn't _sick, too. Her neck hurt and she gave a momentary thought of meningitis. She pushed it away, before trying to stand. One of her socks was missing, and she searched briefly, thinking she'd kicked it off between the threadbare covers on her bed. It wasn't to be found. It irritated her, it was one of her favorite pairs.

She stumbled into the bathroom, eyes squinted against the bright light of morning filtering through the window. She really must be getting sick, her eyes had never been that sensitive before. She wondered briefly the odds of Hotch letting her just stay in bed all day.

Probably not very high, considering how he'd acted yesterday. The man had had it in for her, and she still hadn't figured out why. Today, she resolved, she'd just not get too close to the man. If he wanted to play that emotional yo-yo with someone, he could look elsewhere. _She'd _thought they were at last halfway to being friends. Yesterday's circus had made it abundantly clear that wasn't happening. One thing she could say about herself—she was a fast learner. She'd learned her lesson with Aaron Hotchner, and had it reiterated yesterday. So today, she'd stay far, far away from him.

The bathroom mirror revealed a scary sight. Emily admitted she looked like a corpse, and wondered if she shouldn't play it up, forgoing makeup. Maybe the boss man _would _let her stay behind at the hotel. Her skin was paler than usual, her lips darker, more red. Her eyes were always as dark, but never that sensitive before. She'd just have to wear her sunglasses all day.

But it was her neck that drew her attention. Two bumps marred the surface, and around them were crescent shaped bruises, forming an almost mouth-shape. She sighed, cursing her runaway imagination. Bug bites, that she'd probably itched in the night, forming bruises. She looked at the nails on her right hand, not surprised to see faint traces of blood and skin cells.

No biggie, she'd bruised herself.

She hurriedly prepared for the day, then she was ready to face the team—and Hotch.


	4. Chapter 4

HOTCH'S HEREDITY

(_I don't know when Hotch's birthday are, or how old he is, so just go with it, please…)_

Hotch's head hurt. He lay in his bed, replaying the events of the previous day—his fortieth birthday--and his part in them. He owed her an apology. He shouldn't have acted that way. He wasn't entirely sure of _why_ he had. Or why he'd acted that way with _her_. Though a part of him certainly suspected the cause.

Whenever she'd gotten near him, he'd wanted nothing more than to devour her. And he didn't just mean sexually. He'd found himself wondering how she'd taste. Wondering if she'd fight him.

It had been disconcerting for the supervisor. That was for sure. It was bad enough it had to happen to him—and he'd always known the potential existed for him to have inherited the condition, but to have it suddenly spring forth after forty years of being dormant, had floored him.

Yes, he'd known his father had the condition, but the man had died before Aaron had reached adulthood, and they'd certainly never talked about the odds of it happening. Hotch hadn't even been certain he believed in it all.

Now he did.

What he didn't know was what part _she _seemed to play. He'd not had those urges with anyone else on his team, even JJ or Garcia. Just Emily. He'd watched her coming down the stairs, yesterday morning. Her hair had been curled, damp and unruly. Her eyes had been large and sensual, drawing him in from over fifteen feet away. Her body had looked so incredibly delicate—which he knew to be a lie. She was thin, but she was strong.

Just as strong as the pulse he could hear beating beneath all that smooth creamy white skin.

When the fangs had erupted in his mouth they'd nearly pierced the skin of his bottom lip. He'd barely been able to suppress the startled curse that had nearly escaped. But Hotch wasn't stupid, he'd known exactly what it meant.

He'd become what he'd always feared. He was just like his father. The XY DNA that was the hallmark of a human male was different in him, and now he knew it. He had the XV genome. It was rare, and only those of his kind knew of it. Only males could carry it. He knew the truth.

Hotch was a vampire.

He'd excused himself, going out to the vehicles to wait for the team. He'd sat there behind the wheel pondering what it meant for him, the changes in his life. In Jack's. The boy would have to be told someday.

He wondered why it was just thoughts of _Emily's _blood that got him hot in the gut, and not the rest of the team. It was just his luck that she was one of the first out of the B&B, she'd approached him and he'd pulled back instinctively.

He'd fought the urges screaming at him to grab her, bare her neck and sink deep. To drain her dry. Every last drop. Then make her turn to him, and reverse the process. Make her take _his _blood into her body. To feel her _lips _pressed against his flesh. Tasting him, tasting her. He so very much wanted to taste her.

If what he remembered was true, that's exactly what he had done just hours earlier. Hotch stood, pulled his shirt over his head. There the proof was, right over his heart.

The bruising was very distinctive, he'd seen enough bite marks in his career to identify one when he saw it. He'd held her to him, and forced her to _feed _from him, after he'd fed from her. He sank down on the mattress, head falling to rest in his hands as he replayed what had happened…

_He'd heard the screams of one of the women and even the startling change in his life hadn't kept him from instinctively running to the rescue. But he hadn't found JJ or Pen in the hallway hurt, instead _she'd _stood, innocent and vulnerable, in front of JJ's door. her legs had shown white in the macabre moonlight, as had her shoulders and neck. All that skin he couldn't wait to run his teeth over._

_He'd watched her for a moment before stepping closer. It was like a compulsion for him, he couldn't stop. At that point he had to have her, or he'd simply slaughter every damned human in the hotel—including those he cared about. He had to feed, and feed soon. And the only one he wanted was Emily. _

_He'd warred with himself, of course. Was it fair to her, sacrificing her for the good of the rest of the B&B's guests? No, of course it wasn't. But what else could he do? Hurt JJ, and her unborn baby? Reid with his scrawny body and infinite trust in Hotch? _

_He doubted he'd have been able to subdue Morgan, or even Dave. Penelope never even entered his mind._

_No, he was focused completely on Emily. And he'd do whatever he had to in order to get her. _


	5. Chapter 5

THE CLAIMING

(Ok, way OOC, but fun, nonetheless…)

_He'd given in to the urgings of his body. He'd stepped closer, knowing what he was about to do was wrong. But as the carrier of XV DNA he knew what new traits he now possessed. The old myths were true about his kind. He could control her mind, make her do his bidding. Could even erase it from her memory. _

_That's what he'd do. He'd take what he had to from her, then erase what he had to from her. She turned, sensing him in the shadows. He could clearly see inside her head, knew that in the shadows she didn't recognize him. _

_He stayed to the shadows. She'd started to scream, ironically, he'd read her intentions to yell _his _name, his and Morgan's. He hated Morgan then. And had the man been present, Hotch probably would have shredded him for the place Morgan held in Emily's life._

_From that moment forward, Emily was his. His pulled her to him, looking down at her, so vulnerable in his grasp. He wanted her to be still, and because he'd wished it, she was._

_He held that much power over her._

_He lowered his head, she stood shorter than she normally did, and he realized quickly she was barefoot, without the heels that made her taller. He was ruthless in his kiss, rougher than he ever intended. He felt her lip split beneath his and the taste of her blood was the sweetest, most erotic thing he'd ever experienced. His lips forced her mouth open even wider. He loosened his hold on her mind, but she still didn't fight him. _

_Reid's door started to open and Hotch moved quickly, faster than he ever would have been able to before. She was so light in his arms, a fact he attributed to his new gift of strength. He had her in the storage closet before the door was half opened. His hand continued to cover her mouth, only relaxing his hand after a thought flashed before her mind and he easily intercepted. He hadn't meant to cut off her air. But he was incapable then of feeling guilt. _

_It was almost more than he could resist, having her so close to him. He pushed her hair—sleep tangled and sweet-smelling—out of his way. He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, left bare by that small tank top she'd changed into. Her neck was vulnerable to him now. _

_Hotch ran his tongue over her skin, finally tasting her the way he'd wanted to all day. Her pulse beat frantically against his lips. He kissed the beat, murmured reassurances to her. Tried to calm her with his tone. It didn't work. He increased his mental hold on her, not lost to the thoughts running through her mind. She was angry at herself for not being able to fight him off. She still hadn't recognized him. That thought angered him. He wanted her to know who held her. Who was the strongest male around. Who was claiming her as _his. _And that was exactly what he was doing, he realized. He was making her his for all eternity. And he'd have eternity. And he'd not spend it alone, not if he could help it. And the one woman he wanted above all else, was currently held captive in his grasp. He told her all of this in a language he'd only heard his father speak once before he died from cancer, and the chemo that had attacked his XV DNA. _

_Hotch was tired of waiting. He ran his tongue over the pulse in her neck one more time, then he bit down, hard, teeth piercing flesh._

_He fed voraciously, the flow of her blood echoing the beating of her strong heart. Her body weakened, but still he didn't relent. Her eyes closed, she slumped against him long before he raised his head. _

_He cradled her to him, thankful he'd chosen to sleep without a shirt that night. He guided her mouth to his chest, right over the beating of his own heart. He held her tight to him, taking control of what remained of her spirit, informing her exactly of what she should do, what she _would _do, in order to survive for him. _

_She was long used to following his orders, and on some intrinsic level she did recognize the one holding her. It wasn't long before she obeyed. _

_Hotch had never felt anything like it, the soft touch of her lips as they drank from his flesh, as she took his blood into her body. She'd convert to his kind by moonfall the next evening. He'd have her then. He separated her from him, bent down to pull her into his arms fully. She didn't protest. Her head fell to land softly against his shoulder as he swiftly carried her back to her room. He stood over her long after he'd tucked her beneath the blankets, knowing at first she'd reduce it all to nothing but a dream._

_That was an illusion he'd not let her keep._

_Emily Prentiss was now his, and he had an eternity to make sure she knew it. _


	6. Chapter 6

WEREWOLVES, GHOSTS, CHANGELINGS AND THINGS

_Changeling—(__in folklore) an ugly, stupid, or strange child left by fairies in place of a pretty, charming child._

David Rossi awoke when he heard Morgan's door open. He lay there for a moment, mind running over all the team had to do that day. They had a serial killer to catch, but it was more than that. Their personal lives were woven throughout each and every case they took—how could they not be? Not only were they working, but they were _living _too. It was highly unreasonable to expect those personal lives to affect their work lives. And not always in a good way. Hotch was toeing the line with Emily, and Dave knew it was his place to step in.

He stood, deciding that for once while on a case, he'd attempt to catch a sunrise. Maybe he could pretend for a moment he was at his cabin and he and Mudgie were planning an early morning hunt.

He walked around the outside of the B&B, breathing in the cool morning air. He could see Morgan's running figure in the distance as the younger man headed up the road at a fast jog as the sun began to peak over the horizon. Boy liked to keep his body in shape, to sharpen his mind. Dave could understand that, and he briefly considered whether taking up a workout regimen would help _him _stay healthy.

He lost that train of thought when the dog appeared. It was a huge bastard, twice the size of his Mudgie, but equally as dark. "Here, pup. Come here."

The dog whined, tail wagged a little, but Dave wasn't stupid—this dog could tear him apart if it wanted. Still the beast moved closer, coming to rub up against Dave's leg. That's when he realized it was a female. "Hey pretty lady. What are you doing out here so early? I don't have any biscuits, though."

As if she understood him, she sunk her teeth into the hand he held out. Dave jerked back, not surprised to see she'd broken the skin. Not a lot, just a bit. Served him right, petting a strange dog. Who knew what she was contaminated with. He went back inside, determined to report the dog to the local animal control whenever he got the time.

DEREKTHEHERODEREKTHEHERO

Derek Morgan ran, feet hitting the pavement, as the road winded through horrific curves and crested small hills. The woods rustled around him, but the man didn't notice. He just ran, thoughts replaying yesterday, looking for some clue as to Hotch's behavior.

He couldn't find any. But if today played out as a repeat of yesterday, Morgan would be goin' one on one with the bossman. Morgan considered Emily Prentiss to be his best friend in the world, even more so than Garcia. Emily didn't need protected like the blonde, and Morgan always trusted her to have _his _back. Hotch had just better watch himself.

Derek paused to catch his breath. He bent over, head down, while he inhaled.

"Help me."

Derek jerked back up, probably a little too quickly and blood rushed to his head.

"Help me, please!"

No one was there. "Hello? Where are you? This is Derek Morgan, with the FBI. Show yourself and I'll get you the help you need. Come on, don't be scared."

"Help me!"

Derek began searching the woods. Nearly an hour later and he'd still found no sign of whomever had spoken.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" He called one last time.

"Goodbye. I must go now, the others come." The voice said, sounding much farther away.

"What? What others, hello? Hello?"

Derek was the last one in the lobby, with the exception of JJ.

EMILYQUEENOFTHEDAMNED

"Where's JJ?" Emily asked the group as she profiled their faces quickly. Penelope looked bright and serene, like she always did first thing in the morning. Derek looked perplexed and she made a mental note to talk to him as soon as she had a spare minute.

Reid looked exhausted, but his face had a peculiar glow. To Emily, it looked almost post-coital. But she pushed that thought aside. Rossi was pale, his hair mussed and looking slightly longer than it had the day before. Man really needed to shave…and shower, she thought as he reached a hand up and scratched vigorously at a spot above his left ear.

Hotch just looked…hungry. Starving, even. His skin was paler than he'd been yesterday and she briefly wondered if he was coming down with the same virus she was.

Good, serves the beast right for how he'd acted the day before. Her brow furrowed as she recalled the part he'd played in her strange nightmare. Had they really made out in a storage closet? She'd definitely never had an erotic dream about him before, and that she had now—after such a brutal attitude from him yesterday—irked her. Did she get off on emotional pain or something? Hell no.

"I'm right here." A feminine voice said from somewhere behind Derek. He moved, letting the blond woman pass.

"JJ, did you color your hair last night?" Penelope asked, brightly.

"No." JJ hurriedly said. She looked around frantically, "It's the same hair as always, isn't it?"

"Of course." Emily soothed, startled at the frantic tone to the younger woman's voice. But she saw what Penelope had seen. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn _it wasn't JJ _standing there in their midst. The hair _was _lighter, the eyes tilted slightly up in a way they hadn't the night before. But that was just foolishness—of course it was JJ. Who else would it be—a changeling?

Emily didn't believe in those kind of things. The world had enough monsters and nightmares in them without adding mythical beings like vampires, werewolves, and changelings to the mix.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch watched her. She was pale, and he knew that would be normal for her—for both of them—from there on out. Her hair curled sensuously down her back, and his hands itched to touch, to move it out of the way like he had the night before. She'd covered up his mark, he realized as he looked closer. Makeup hid it; she'd painted over _his _mark the way an unruly teenager would a hickey.

That would never do long term, but for now he'd let her have her illusion. At least for today. Tonight was a different story. "Come on, let's get going."

He kept Emily with him in the first of the SUVs. Derek drove the other. Hotch ignored Reid's presence in the backseat, though he noticed the boy didn't seem to mind, just sat with his eyes closed and a soft smile on his face. The circles beneath Reid's eyes were more pronounced—he probably hadn't slept well the night before.

He wasn't the only one. Hotch had fought the urge to go back to her room and do more to her. Claim her for his own, and let her know it, too.

But even as a vampire, Hotch was a patient and methodical man. Tonight was soon enough for what he wanted to do to his colleague. And he'd do it all. Once they arrived at the small police station he sent Reid in ahead.

"Emily." Hotch began, turning to look at her fully. They were still in the SUV and he used his new gift to ensure the doors wouldn't unlock until _he _allowed them. She was stuck with him.

"Yes, _sir?" _Her voice held an unconscious bite and he smiled. She was definitely spirited, and he now had an eternity to enjoy it. "Something else you wanted to say to me?"

"Yes. I wanted to apologize for yesterday." He reached out and grabbed her hand. So soft, so smooth—was the skin he held. He resisted the urge to bring it to his lips and nibble. Time for that later. "I was struggling and I lashed out against you."

"Why me?"

"I don't know. Because I thought you'd fight back, maybe? Maybe I needed that." He knew he lied through his teeth. He wasn't ready to tell her the real reason was that he'd been fighting his body's natural urging to claim his mate. That would go over with Miss Logical _real _well. He ran one finger over the back of her hand, holding tight when she tried to pull away. He'd never let her pull away from him again. He sent a small mental push her way, making it clear in her mind that she didn't _want _to pull away from him. She _wanted _to get closer to him. "Will you forgive me?"

Emily felt different, confused, as she sat there beside Hotch. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself against his chest and cuddle against. "Of course. Next time, though, I'd appreciate if you'd make someone else your scapegoat. I didn't deserve it, and I definitely won't stand for it…sir."

"I'll try not to let it happen again." Hotch told her, his thumb hadn't stopped _caressing _her hand and the movements were sending tiny needles of sensation up her spine. She chalked it up to residuals of her nightmare/erotic dream about the man.

She was just glad he couldn't read her mind, couldn't learn exactly what she had dreamt about. That would be horribly embarrassing. And she didn't even know where it had come from. "We should get in there."

"Yes." Hotch said, though he seemed strangely reluctant. He still hadn't released her hand. Emily tried to pull it free, but he resisted. She repeated the movement, more insistent. He finally relented. But he looked at her, and his eyes actually heated. She saw it happen.

She shook her head slightly, then looked at him again. Whatever flames she'd thought she'd seen in his eyes, they were gone now.

She definitely was getting sick, the flu always made her see things that weren't there.

She really wished she could have just stayed in bed.

"Emily, if you start feeling ill today, let me know, you can always go back to the hotel and rest."

She looked at him, startled, _how had he known?_

HOTCHTHEKINGHOTCHTHEKING

He smiled as he read her mind. "You look pale, and you're slightly chilled. It doesn't take much for a profiler to read the signs. I'm not feeling too well, myself."

What he felt was a raging lust that told him to just carry her back to _his _room and mark her for his. His body was telling him no one was safe until he had her claimed completely. But she hadn't even converted yet.

He'd know when she had, he'd be able to _feel _it. His whole body would shout out, victorious. He'd stayed awake long in the night, remembering some of the stories his grandfather had told him in his early childhood. The man was still living, hale and hearty at the age of one hundred nineteen—though he looked to be a third that age, in upper Maine. Hotch made a note to call him for more information. Because only a male could carry XV DNA his kind had to reproduce with rare human women, they had to be intelligent, healthy, strong, and possessing of a rare gene of their own. Apparently, Emily had the gene, while JJ and Penelope didn't. Hotch was eternally grateful for that. His grandfather had told him he'd find one, and he'd better keep her. Keep her close, keep her safe, keep her his. Had told him that once he _had _converted, any vampire within a six hundred mile radius without a mate would come rushing—to take her from him.

Hotch was _not _ever going to let that happen.


	8. Chapter 8

In medieval times, people protected themselves by carving grotesque statues out of stone and placing them on the tops of their houses to ward off demons, werewolves, and vampires and things. Penelope used her brightly haired rubber trolls for the same concept.

Only she normally used them to protect against viscious serial killers.

She felt this case was deserving of some extra special protection, so she withdrew her secret weapon from the confines of her computer bag. He stood less than an inch and a half tall and had been a gift from Emily. His hair was the color of a fluorescent rainbow, and the soft tufts tickled her neck when she draped him—complete with hole drilled in his sides to allow the leather cord to pass through—around her neck. He nestled next to the silver cross JJ had given her. Two talismans from her two closest friends.

What could go wrong with that?

SPENCERREIDDROFDREAMS

Reid was incredibly tired. His eyes were heavy, his body like lead. All he wanted to do was sleep. But that, of course, was not an option for him. Hotch had him out doing interviews with Morgan. Still, as the older man maneuvered the vehicle through the long and winding road to the bottom southwest of the county, Reid dropped his eyelids to rest against his cheeks. He was out within seconds.

She came to him again. The lady from his dreams. She had all the features that he admired. Long blond hair, just like JJ's. Big dark eyes, just like Emily's. Wide, happy smile, just like Penelope's. But the rest of her was fashioned just like he wanted. Tall and curved, skin soft, mouth hot.

He moaned in his sleep.

DEREKTHEHERODEREKTHEHERO

The kid must have been havin' some kind of dream, Derek thought. He contemplated waking him, but they still had over half an hour drive left, so he let Reid sleep. Derek's thoughts replayed the moment in the woods.

Had he lost his mind? Had someone really been there? Should he have told the others? Stayed until he knew one way or another? Did it have something to do with the case? Or was he finally losing it?

Morgan just didn't know.

ROSSITHEDOGROSSITHEDOG

His head itched. He reached up and scratched. He was thirsty. He lapped at the water fountain. Emily smelled good. He sniffed her. Hotch growled, he backed away quickly. Hadn't meant to challenge the alpha. Not _his _mate. His head itched. He scratched again.

EMILYVAMPIREQUEENEMILYVAMPIREQUEEN

Hotch was hovering. Emily was getting slightly irritated. He'd just sent Reid and Morgan out on interviews, and she knew that Hotch and Rossi should have been headed in the other direction. But he hadn't.

Something was up with him, and something was up with the older man. Rossi continued to scratch, one hand chafing at the hair above his ear repeatedly. Emily was half-convinced the man had caught a bad case of head lice at the hotel. _Eww_. She made a mental note to keep away from the older man until he got whatever problem he had resolved. God, was the older profiler actually sniffing her? Drooling?

Yuck. This was getting weird.

HOTCHLEADEROFTHEDAMNED

Hotch easily caught her thoughts. He growled, sending a low message to the older man beside him. Only the fact that Dave and he had been friends for years kept Hotch from following through on what his instincts demanded.

He wanted to rip the older man apart for daring to step near her.

This could get dangerous. Why was he reacting this way to a human? There was nothing non-human about Dave. Wouldn't Hotch have known by now if there was?

Still Hotch didn't want him getting anywhere near Emily.

He also read her irritation at _him. _And he supposed it did seem a bit out of character for him to hang around the station when he should be out doing interviews. He didn't want to, but he knew he must.

Still, he hated leaving her vulnerable. She still hadn't converted yet, and he half suspected it would be painful when she did. He wanted to be there when it happened, of course. Needed to be. She'd not understand, would be scared, confused, hurting. She'd need him.

He was consoled only by the fact that he'd be able to sense when it was about to happen. He and she were linked mentally now for the rest of their days. If it happened while he was separated from her, he'd get back to her as quickly as he could. Even if he had to fly.

He turned abruptly and left the police station, Rossi trailing behind at his heels like a faithful hound. They passed JJ on the way out. She didn't even look at them as she walked by. Hotch paid her no mind.

JJTHECONFUSEDJJTHECONFUSED.

JJ's head hurt. She opened her eyes to find herself lying on a bed of brightly colored flowers. She was dressed in a white gown, and a wreath of daffodils encircled her hair. Tiny velvet slippers adorned her feet.

Dozens of people danced around her to the strangest pipe music. She felt like a damned virgin sacrifice, except she knew the truth. She wasn't a virgin, and surely _they—_whomever they were—hadn't missed the obvious proof of that. She dropped a hand to her tummy, feeling the curve of Bump, just reassuring herself the baby was still there.

It was only when a group of the strange revelers moved closer that JJ realized the gossamer material on their backs was actually iridescent wings.

JJ had one thought—

Toto wasn't in Kansas anymore, and Jennifer Jareau wasn't in Indiana no more…

(OK, LIKE I SAID--this is completely and utterly, ridiculous and irreverent. Not to mention irrelevant…Thanks to those of you who are taking the time to actually review this work of absurdity…Hope you are all enjoying. )


	9. Chapter 9

NINE: DISBELIEF IS A POWER TRIGGER

_The strength of the vampire is that people will not believe in him.__  
_**_Garrett Fort_**

Emily's stomach hurt. Bad. If she still had her appendix she'd be one hundred percent certain it was in the process of rupturing. She bent nearly double, drawing the attention of the blond on her right. The one on her left didn't even look up.

"Emily! My vision, are you ok?" Garcia asked, rushing to Emily's side.

"No. I don't think so. I just need to sit down for a bit." Emily said, as her heart started beating quickly. Her hands shook, where they lay covering her abdomen. Fire singed her insides and she moaned, barely keeping her body from crumbling to the floor. Only the thought of the indignity that would bring kept her upright. Emily Prentiss _did _not pass out in anonymous police stations. Garcia helped her into the chair, her face pale and worried.

"JJ—call Hotch! Have _someone_ get back here with a damned car as quick as possible!" Garcia ordered, hand unconsciously fingering the troll around her neck as Emily lowered her head to the desk and started shaking. "If not, I'm commandeering a squad car!"

"Huh? What?" The smaller blonde asked. "Call who? Why?"

"Never mind!" Garcia shot the younger blonde a look filled with complete irritation and surprise. If Emily hadn't felt like her very organs were being twisted she'd have asked JJ what was up with her. But right then she just didn't care.

HOTCHREADSMINDS!

Hotch knew when it started. He felt her pain reverberating in his own head while he stood alongside a dry creek bed on a Salem, Indiana farm. He had one thought only—getting back to her as fast as he could.

He fought the urge to just leap in the air and take off to her. Only that he knew it would be hard to explain why he suddenly didn't need the jet to fly kept him grounded. He whistled for Dave, drawing the older man's attention quickly. Dave practically ran up to him. Hotch filed the strangeness away for later consideration—he had bigger concerns for now. "We're done here. I want to head back to the station."

Dave nodded his head, though he didn't speak. He scratched his head for the umpteenth time and followed Hotch to the SUV.

Two minutes later they were on the highway headed to the municipal building. Hotch's mind was locked on Emily's as he sent waves of reassurance to her from where he sat behind the wheel.

Dave just sat with his window down, and his head actually hanging out the window, nose pointed in the wind.

Hotch jerked the vehicle to a complete stop and hurried inside.

PENELOPEGARCIAPENELOPEGARCIA

"Thank God, you're here!" Garcia said, seeing the handsome leader strolling in. Hotch could always make things better, and the man who marched up to them had undeniable power wafting off him. Garcia knew immediately that he'd take care of Emily.

Leaving her to take care of the creature that had somehow replaced JJ. Garcia wondered briefly if the pregnant media liaison had caught whatever Emily had. If she had, it wouldn't be good. But something was definitely _off _with JJ. Badly.

DAVIDTHEDOGDAVIDTHEDOG

Something was wrong. He didn't know what. Wanted reassurances. Went to the Alpha-female. Looked at her, head cocked. Mouth opened slightly. Pant escapes.

"I'm fine, Dave. Just a touch of the flu." Alpha-female said, patting the hand he'd placed on her shoulder. Knew she lied. Squeezed shoulder.

Backed away when Alpha-male growled again. _Not _his woman. Not. Head itched. Scratched.

Alpha-male issuing commands. Nods. Understands. His job to take care of rest of pack until Alpha-male returns. He was good Beta-male.

HOTCHRULESTHEWORLD

Hotch wanted everyone to back away, to let _him _care for her. Because he wished it, it was so. That simple. He had that much power of humans, even his team. Even her, for now. Once the conversion was completed, she'd be almost as strong, almost as powerful. But only almost, it was the way of his kind that the female was always weaker than the male. It was not an ideal they believed in, per se, it just was. Physically, he was stronger and more powerful. In all ways. She'd get used to it.

But first, he had to get her out of the small station they found themselves in and to somewhere private. "Emily," he infused his voice with a strong dose of compulsion. Her brow furrowed as she tried to fight it. That was something else he'd not allow for much longer. Hotch's words were law. She'd better learn that early on. "Come, we're leaving. No arguments."

She didn't offer any.


	10. Chapter 10

_(Ok, so things keep getting weirder and weirder--thanks to my faithful reviewers (and no, I am not using some sort of vampire mind-compulsion to keep you all reading this story--I swear WINK WINK. Of course if I was--would you mere humans be aware of it?? Seriously...ENJOY)_

Hotch didn't drive her to the hospital. He didn't even drive her to the hotel. He pulled the SUV to a stop just outside an old farmhouse and killed the engine.

"Hotch?" She asked, surprised, but still trusting him. "Why are we here? I really don't feel well."

"I know." He said, as he closed his door almost in her face. She watched him warily as he rounded the front of the vehicle and pulled her door open. She was expecting a helping hand, and was completely floored when he reached in and wrapped both of his hands around her waist.

He pulled her straight from the vehicle , and Emily didn't have time to offer up any protest. She seriously doubted he'd have allowed her to, his manner was that imposing. "Hotch?"

"Sh. We need to talk." He led her around the back of the farmhouse and straight to the old barn. He hurriedly opened the door and led her into the shaded interior. "There are some things you need to know."

"Ok." She said, drawing the word out before continuing. "And it has be _right_ now?"

"Yes." He turned toward her and she instinctively backed up. He actually looked frightening. Emily had never been afraid of him before, and she wondered why she was now. He followed her movements, until he had her against the heavy wooden door.

"Sir?" She hated how her voice squeaked on the small word, but her whole body was hurting and it—_he—_was actually scaring her.

"Emily, you need to know something about me…"

"What?" One hand rose to block his chest from resting against hers. One small hand separated them, and she knew it probably wouldn't ever be enough.

COUNTHOTCHULACOUNTHOTCHULA

She smelled wonderful, the changes taking place in that beautiful body making her nearly irresistible to him. He nuzzled closer, feeling the shock hit her body, reading her surprise in that wonderfully complex mind of hers. He sent waves of reassurance her way, and he let her see fully the desire he felt for her, the desire he'd felt from the moment the gene lying dormant within his body had sprung to life.

She tried to back away again, but had nowhere to go. Her eyes widened as his head dropped to rest against hers. "What are you doing?"

"Just listen a moment. There's something you should know about me."

"What?" She was trembling against him and his lips quirked arrogantly. He could so easily see inside her thoughts, so he _knew _it wasn't all fear or nerves causing the tremors. A part of her—the part that was converting—recognized her mate and was calling out to him. Wanting him. Enticing him. Hungering for what he could give her.

By nightfall it would be done, she'd be completely his, and completely happy with it. His kind mated for life. And they had extremely long lives. And he'd get to enjoy her every single night of that long life. He took a deep breath, seized control of her mind—making it impossible for her to disbelieve what he was about to tell her. "I'm a vampire."

"What?" She fought his mental hold, and he gave in to a moment of surprise. From what he'd been told, mental compulsion was nearly impossible for someone to resist. He chalked it up to the rapid changes occurring in her physiology. "Sir? Did you fall and hit your head or something?"

_No, Emily. I didn't. _He spoke the words directly to her mind, then smiled when she actually jumped. "What's the matter? Something not making sense? Hearing strange voices in your head? Hearing _my _voice? "

_I'm telling you the truth. It's a rare genetic anomaly found my kind. In fact, my kind_ _only inherits the gene if we are male. Female children born to my kind are as human as you are—__**were. **_He continued, as her eyes stuck to his, getting even more wide. Her head shook back and forth, negatively denying what he'd said.

"Were?" She whispered, as those dark eyes suddenly narrowed. "What do you mean by _were? _This is too incredible. Too far-fetched. Too _impossible, _to be real, Hotch. I think you've finally cracked. Lost it. Let me go. I'm going to drive myself to the hospital--driving _us _to the hospital--and tell them I'm hallucinating. And that you've finally suffered a psychotic break brought on by extreme emotional triggers. Let me go."

"I can't do that." He said, "Do you remember that dream you had last night?"

"What?" She stood stiff in his arms.

"It wasn't a dream. We _were _in the supply closet. I _did _kiss you—here and here." He touched first her lips, ran a finger lightly over the bottom one. She didn't pull away, there was nowhere for her to go. The trembling increased. He then dropped his hand to encircle her pale neck, fingers splaying wide. He felt her pulse increase against his hand. Felt the way her heart jumped at his touch. "I tasted you. You tasted me."

"No." Emily shook her head slightly, the dark strands of her hair caressing the top of his hand. "That was just a stupid dream. How did you know about it?"

"Because, it wasn't a dream, Emily. I did take you in that closet, did make you into my kind. _That's _what's been happening to you today. That's why you feel as if your insides are reshaping, changing—because they are. Soon you'll understand completely." He pressed his lips to hers, firm, insistent, demanding. She moaned, but didn't try to pull away. He touched her mind softly, just enough to ensure she was believing his words. She was starting to, as the instincts as old as his race began to form in her subconscious. Her body was starting to call to his. His was starting to call to hers. "You're mine, Emily. For now, and forever."

She moaned, but only he heard the sound.

The voice from behind him had him spinning around hurriedly, placing his larger body between hers and the man standing in the back half of the barn.

"She's not yours if I take her from you, my cousin."

Hotch's fangs erupted, recognizing the man for what he was. He was no blood cousin, though they definitely shared at least one common gene. Here stood another vampire, and only one thing was certain—the bastard wanted one thing and one thing only.

He wanted Hotch's Emily.


	11. Chapter 11

_Well, things are starting to wind down, and I hope everything will eventually make sense--to you, to me...to Emily...Enjoy!_

_**Arthur Cleveland Coxe**__  
'Tis the night - the night Of the grave's delight,  
And the warlocks are at their play; Ye think that without  
The wild winds shout, But no, it is they - it is they._

Hotch didn't think, just immediately went into a defensive stance. He felt Emily moving behind him, and it was only then that he remembered his weapon at his side. Instinct was urging him to just rip the man into pieces.

But Hotch had always been good at restraining himself when in a dangerous situation. His hand gripped his weapon and he aimed, quick and sure. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"That's right." Emily said, her own weapon trained on the strange blonde creature standing fifteen feet away. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

The man laughed, "You think those will work on me?"

Hotch wasn't too sure. But he did remember one thing. "We fill you with enough holes and you'll bleed to death."

"Before I can take those from you? You think you're that fast? You think I'm new to this condition? Think I've not been searching for a woman like her for decades? Think I'm giving up now?"

Hotch didn't hesitate as the man moved quickly toward them. He fired, emptying his clip. He was aware of Emily doing the same. It didn't seem to do any good. The man kept coming.

"Hotch!" Emily's voice had an unaccustomed strata of fear and it energized Hotch. He stepped toward the man, knowing that if guns didn't work, he had no choice but to protect her with his own body.

"Emily, I want you to get out of here, get in the car and get back to Morgan and Dave." Hotch ordered grimly, as he and the man began circling each other. The blond laughed cruelly.

"She won't even make it to the car. I'll have her in two seconds flat." The man snarled, eyes trained on Hotch. "Then she and I will get much better acquainted."

He threw the first punch, the blow landing solidly against Hotch's cheek. The BAU chief smiled, a cold, terrifying expression. He returned the blow. He was taller, broader than the blond man. Hopefully, stronger. The blond staggered a bit.

"I'll give you that one."

EMILYTHEHELPLESS?NOTLIKELY.

Emily watched her supervisor as he and the man continued to exchange harsh, painful blows. Neither man went down any time soon. But that blond bastard was doing a number on Hotch.

Together they'd used thirty-four rounds on him, and the man still hadn't gone down. But he continued to bleed profusely, and Emily had a strange feeling that that was the only reason he'd not succeeded in killing Hotch.

She'd never seen a man that strong, and it frightened her to her very toes to think that _he _wanted _her. _And the only that stood in front of him getting that goal was Hotch.

And her.

While Hotch had him distracted, Emily searched the barn for some sort of weapon that would make more of an impact than the guns apparently had. It took her precious time, but she finally found what she thought would work. Her hands clutched the worn wooden handle of the old shovel as tightly as she could.

She circled around behind the two men, knowing that Hotch had seen her only by the tiniest, most imperceptible twitch on his coldly handsome face. The other man—vampire, if Hotch was to be believed—hadn't seen her.

Emily crept closer, just as the man forced Hotch to his knees. Emily's heart—already pounding to bursting—jumped in total fear, seeing the darkheaded man go down. She didn't think, acted on pure instinct, swung the farm implement at the man's head.

It connected, but he didn't go down. Instead he turned to her, completely ignoring Hotch for a moment, and yanked the shovel from her hands. She backed up.

Then he had his hands wrapped around her throat. "You'll learn soon not to even try that shit with me."

Emily swallowed, seeing the pure red flames dancing in his empty eyes. It was abundantly clear to her that Hotch hadn't been off his rocker when he'd told her he was a vampire—this guy definitely wasn't human, either. And he wanted her, and wouldn't be too nice about it.

Emily moved back, trying to get away from him, even trying to get away from Hotch. Then her stomach twisted roughly, another cramp seizing her body at the worst possible time.

The creature reached out, one hand fisting in her hair, as he pulled her closer. His growl was triumphant as his mouth dropped to her neck. "That's it. Soon you'll be fully mine."

Then everything went completely black for Emily. She vaguely heard Hotch saying—yelling—her name.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't answer…

Then she began to dream.


	12. Chapter 12

_Time will explain it all. He is a talker, and needs no questioning before he speaks._

_**Euripides**_

_TWELVE_

_The UNSUB was a real bastard. Emily knew it. Kidnapping of children, raping of women, murdering of men—this guy was all over the map. But they had him, Emily was sure of it. They'd spent two weeks in the small Indiana town of Salem, which if she admitted, was a beautiful area, with the October leaves a bright and brilliant collection of colors. _

_But Salem Indiana and the FBI hadn't really mixed well, and the fact that fourteen people had been victimized before the BAU isolated this one possible UNSUB hadn't endeared them to anyone in the town. _

_They exited their vehicles—she, Rossi, and Hotch from one, Reid, Morgan, and Agent Ann Raes from the other. Raes was the temporary fill-in for JJ, job shadowing the team until this case was finished, until Agent Jordan Todd could join them. She'd also taken to shadowing Reid whenever she could—and the boy had no idea how to handle a sexually aggressive woman intent on seducing him. Raes bore an uncanny resemblance to JJ physically but that was where it ended. And no one, _no one, _liked her. They awaited Todd eagerly._

_Emily was flat-out surprised the woman had made it through high school, let alone college and the FBI. She was also eternally glad Morgan had gotten stuck with her this morning. Emily'd had enough of her, and wished it was Raes left behind at the station with Garcia instead of JJ. _

_Dogs howled around the property, and Emily wasn't the only one to look around sharply. _

"_I'll check it out," Dave said, and no one argued. He was the dog lover of the group._

"_Take Raes with you." Hotch ordered. "Morgan, Reid, you two take the house. Prentiss and I will take the barn."_

"_Yeah man." Morgan said, and he and Reid took off around the back of the house. Rossi and Raes went the other direction, the blonde woman following along obediently._

"_Prentiss, stay close. That's a damned big barn." Hotch said, and Emily nodded, her hand already removing her weapon from it's holster. "On my count."_

_Emily followed him in, following standard entry procedure. In the first section of the barn they found nothing. Deeper inside, they found something they didn't expect. Heat lamps were bolted to the walls of several stalls, and inside were various plants—_not _of the marijuana variety. Emily wondered what they were, and then her eyes fell on several species near the back._

_Mushrooms. Several different types, including a yellow pleated parasol variety—complete with its toxic powder. The guy was creating drugs, probably from botanical bases. "Hotch we need to get out of here, and call DEA."_

"_Why?" He asked, moving up behind her to investigate the small stall's contents._

"_Because of my little hobby." A strange voice said from behind them. Both agents spun around, weapons held steady, as they faced the blond man standing between them and the barn door. He wasn't armed, but he didn't appear cowed by the fact that a team of FBI agents were tearing through his place, obviously looking for him. Emily examined his face a little closer and realized one thing—whatever he'd been manufacturing in this barn, he'd probably sampled some of his product and most likely wasn't in his right mind. That made him highly unpredictable and probably even reckless. _

"_You're under arrest for the kidnapping of…" Hotch began reciting the long list of charges as the two agents began moving closer. The blonde man just laughed, maniacally. _

_Emily covered Hotch as he went to grab the man's arms and lower them. She was vaguely aware of Morgan and Reid entering the barn behind the man. They had him. Then the bastard moved, the motion quick and jerky._

_Whatever powder he'd held concealed in his hand hit Emily square in the face. She bent over instinctively, coughing, rubbing at her eyes. She was dimly aware of Morgan swearing, of him and Hotch wrestling the man to the ground. _

_Then Rossi was at her side, hand clutching her shoulder, "Emily! Prentiss! Honey, talk to me! What the hell was in that shit?"_

_Emily heard laughter, cruel and taunting, and knew it wasn't one of the team but some monster,a beast, a creature, taking pleasure from her situation. "A little candy I made from mushrooms. You're little girl there will soon be hearing voices and all sorts of things. Most people seem to like it. And I figured a hot woman like that would appreciate a good time—certainly you all can't give her one."_

_But the voices had already started. Hotch was there, Rossi, Morgan, Reid, even Garcia. But she couldn't find JJ. Where was JJ? She thought she saw her behind Reid, but no, that wasn't her. JJ's hair was darker! It wasn't her. Who was it? Where was JJ? What was going on?_

"_Em? Girl, can you hear me?" Then Morgan was there, and she could see him, see him looking directly at her. Hotch was behind him, glaring down at them. He didn't want Morgan near her. _

"_Help me. Help me, Derek, make it stop!" Emily covered her ears quickly, rocking back and forth, tears streaming from her eyes. Then she was being lifted, strong arms holding her close and safe. She closed her eyes and leaned her head down on the strong shoulders of the man carrying her, keeping her safe. _

HOTCHTHEHEROHOTCHTHEHERO

Her voice wasn't Emily's. This voice was soft, terrified, and it went right through Hotch. That and the fact that the woman had asked Morgan for help instead of him. Of course, the younger agent was down on the ground with her. Close to her. Always close to her.

It bothered him, that closeness. Always had. He'd never probed too deeply as to _why _it bothered him. "Morgan, get this son of a bitch out of here. We'll take care of her."

"Hotch. If it's mushrooms, we need to get her to the hospital now!" Reid suddenly said, from behind them all, where he'd been looking at the stall's contents. "Emily's _allergic _to mushrooms. Highly!"

Hotch didn't hesitate, just lifted her straight from the ground. She didn't protest, just trembled against him as she lay her head on his shoulder. He tightened his grip as he rushed from the barn, Reid and Rossi on his heels like faithful hounds.

"Raes! You and Morgan wait here for the others!" Rossi yelled the order as Hotch climbed into the back seat beside Emily and Rossi started the engine. Reid was fast in the passenger seat, and then they were tearing out of the drive.

"What others?" Agent Raes asked of no one in particular, though several local LEOs were milling about, having arrived while Hotch and Emily searched the barn. "What's going on _now? _What a weird team."

(Ok, it's not over yet…still one more chapter….)


	13. Chapter 13

_Rita Rudner__  
Halloween was confusing. All my life my parents said, "Never take candy from strangers." And then they dressed me up and said, "Go beg for it." I didn't know what to do! I'd knock on people's doors and go, "Trick or treat." "No thank you."_

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was a vampire. A vampire surrounded by gray flannel. A laughing, dark-eyed, dark-haired, pale-skinned vampire surrounded by flannel.

Emily realized quickly what she was looking at. Someone—and she _knew _it wasn't her—had dressed her in flannel vampire pajamas. There were little vampire heads, blood-red lips, and little black bats printed all over the flannel. She looked a bit past the arm she had draped over her stomach—which still cramped a bit—and took in the room she'd suddenly found herself in. Generic hospital room, she decided. Then her eyes focused on the window and the _creatures _standing sentinel.

Garcia's entire troll collection were arranged on the window sill, and a large stuffed one—complete with rainbow hair—was cuddled in Emily's other arm. Emily recognized several of them as those she'd purchased for her friend. Emily was touched that her friend would part with them long enough for them to stand guard, to protect her from demons when she'd been so obviously sick. Emily's mind was still a bit fuzzy on the details. But one thing was becoming increasingly clearer to her, she'd had one hell of a hallucination—or dream. She wasn't quite certain how to classify what she'd experienced.

The trolls weren't the only ones standing guard. Or rather, _sitting_ guard. The pregnant media liaison Emily and the rest of the team had come to greatly appreciate in the last two weeks was sound asleep in the hospital chair beside Emily's bed. Emily was so glad to see JJ there instead of that weird _changeling _that had taken her place the last two weeks.

It didn't take a trained investigator to figure out just exactly who had dressed her in these ridiculously printed—unbelievably comfortable—flannel pajamas. Garcia's and JJ's hands were definitely visible in the feat. Emily was eternally grateful—who didn't hate those horrific hospital gowns that were standard in every hospital. And her friends had cared enough to purchase her these pajamas—and dress her in them when she'd been unconscious and unable to protest the print. Emily examined the pajamas again, and decided the little vampires were kind of cute—even if they did greatly resemble Hotch.

She laughed silently at that, wondering how the supervisor would feel about being compared to a mythical monster. Still, with longer canine teeth and a cape, he'd look just like Dracula. She shook her head, trying to shake off the residuals of the dream. Hotch as a vampire—one hell of a dream, that.

And her as his queen? Get real. There wasn't anything like that between the two of them, even in the non-paranormal world. And Emily was alright with that.

Speaking of the devil, or vampire, if she wanted to be hilarious, the man chose that moment to enter Emily's hospital room--followed quickly by the rest of the team, she was happy to see.

"Hello." She said, softly, sitting up and crossing her legs Indian style in the narrow bed. Rossi walked up to her head, shaggy and unshaven. It had been a rough two weeks for all of them. "Dave, someone care to explain just exactly what happened to me?"

"What do you remember?" Morgan asked, reaching over and kissing her on the cheek. As he moved back, he reached a casual hand out and straightened the pajama top that had started to slide off her narrow shoulder. "Gave us quite a scare."

"You really don't want to know the things I remember. Or the things I thought I saw happen." She grinned at him, cheekily, one hand rising unconsciously to scratch a spot on her neck. She'd not missed the red rash covering some of her skin, so she had an inkling of _why _she was in the hospital. "So when am I getting out of here?"

"Probably in the morning. Now that you're awake." Rossi said, leaning against the window sill and the troll army. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've had one hell of an allergic reaction to something?" Emily hypothesized.

"You don't remember?" Reid asked, then proceeding to bump his foot on the hospital bed, jarring both him and Emily.

"No. The last thing I clearly remember doing is eating dinner at that Mexican place for the eightieth time. After that I'm a bit clouded on details." Emily admitted, readjusting her troll doll. Garcia moved closer, hugging Emily. Emily smiled at the blonde. "Where's Raes?"

"Sent back to where ever she came from." Reid said, heartfelt. "As soon as the arrest was made and final--two days ago."

"I'm glad." Emily said. "So…I have to wait until tomorrow to get out of here? What do I have to do to get out of here a little earlier than that? Hotch?"

Hotch watched her as he spoke. She was pale, hair tangled and wild from sleeping for the past two days. It had taken that long for whatever she'd been hit with to work its way out of her system. The allergic reaction had been pretty bad, and she'd been out for most of that. When she had been awake she'd talked of changelings, and kept wondering where JJ was. So he'd ordered JJ to stay with her.

Her body looked thin and fragile in those ridiculous pajamas, vulnerable. He wasn't used to seeing her vulnerable. It disconcerted him, just like it had in that damned barn, seeing her so defenseless. Emily was never that vulnerable. Never easy prey for some of the world's monsters. Until that damned barn.

"You'll stay here until the morning. It's already late, anyway." Hotch ordered.

She pursed her lips, looking at him with slight irritation. But she didn't protest. Garcia woke JJ and they all visited for a while, until Emily began to look a bit tired. Hotch ordered everyone from the room after they told her good night. Morgan kissed her cheek, Reid bid her an awkward good night, Rossi squeezed her hand. JJ and Garcia both hugged her, Garcia tucking that stuffed troll doll beside the dark-headed woman. Hotch found it slightly endearing that Emily didn't protest, just allowed the toy to share her pillow. She looked…_different…_dressed in childish pajamas, hair in two braids—Garcia had insisted on combing it before she left—and a toy beside her.

He was the last one to leave the room, turning when she called his name softly. "Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." She said. "I should have realized when I saw the mushrooms I needed to get out."

"We had no idea he'd hit you full face." Hotch said. "Next time we see a fungus we'll run the other way."

"We'll do that." Emily said, as Hotch smiled. She narrowed her eyes, looking closely at his face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, frowning at the intensity of her gaze.

"Nothing." She said. "Just thought something was different about you. Probably leftovers from the mushrooms."

He nodded, told her good night.

Emily lay awake for a long time, certain she'd seen a pair of fangs in her supervisor's mouth.

_Crazy, _she thought. Vampires, werewolves, changelings, and things--they didn't exist. She knew that--didn't she?

_**Scottish Saying**__  
From ghoulies and ghosties and long leggety beasties and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!_

(Ok….so I couldn't resist….this story was probably the most fun to write! Hope you enjoyed.)


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